Catniss
by EmuFrost
Summary: Have you ever wondered what the Hunger Games would be like if everyone was a cat? No? Maybe? It doesn't matter, this story is a new look at the amazing series through the eyes of Catniss Everdeen. This is not to make fun of the Hunger Games!(Review and tell me what you think!) Rated K because there is going to be some mild violence.
1. A Sad Day for Catniss Everdean

When I woke, the other side of the our cat bed was cold. I stretched out my paws to feel for Prim, but she wasn't there. I yawned. She must of had bad dreams, of course she did. Today is reaping day. I crawl out from under the covers. It's still dark out, but cat's eyes see very well with no light. I roll over to see Prim curled up in the corner with my mother. She has a perfect little face. With her eyes closed and a small smile curving across her face making her whiskers stick up even more. Her fur, as white as snow with a few drops of brown speckled in. She purrs softly as mother rubs her behind the ears. At the foot of Mother's cat bed is our pet, Buttersqueak, the ugliest mouse ever to walk the earth. He or she, nobody really knows, hates me. The feeling's mutual.

I slide of the bed and land on all four. I still have time to go hunting before the reaping. I trot out the door flap out into the street, or at least that's what we call the muddy path here in District 9. I follow the path past the sign that says "Dead End". Finally I reach the border. It's guarded by an electric fence, but everybody knows it's not on. Today is reaping day, so the district is crawling with soldiers. I slip under the fence just in case one of them felt compelled to turn it on. Bounding through the forest I dodge fallen trees and rocks. This is where I belong. Suddenly I hear a rustle in the bush ahead of me. I stop and crouch low under the tall grass. A small gray bird hops in front of me. Perfect prey. I crouch even lower waiting to pounce. I count down in my head. Right as I'm about to leap the bird flinches and flies away. I spin around. A gray cat sits on a log looking satisfied with himself.

"Hey Catnip!" he meows. I frown.

"Tail!"

"Oh come on! We shouldn't be hunting today, the place is swarming with soldiers" Tail meows.

"But that bird could've been a meal!" I meow. He pounces off the log and walks over.

"Don't be mad at me, this could be the last time you see me you know!"

"How many times is your name in?" I ask. He sighs.

"43" I look away. "Yeah, the kibbles aren't exactly in my favor. Happy Hunger Games though." I look back. Tail is holding a little pouch. He pours the contents out on the ground. Kibbles!

"And meow meow the kibbles be ever in your favor!" I meow in a mocking Catitol Accent. He laughs and we eat the kibbles. Tuna flavored.

"Why don't we just run?" he asks.

"Tail! You know we can't. They would catch us and what about Prim and your family!" He shrugs. "We'd take them too!"

"Prim? In the open woods?" I meow. He laughs.

"Someday I'll do it, but today we have a reaping to get ready for." he says. With that he bounds back towards the fence. I chase after him. I have to get back home to get washed.

•••

Prim rubs up next to me as we walk slowly to the reaping. I can feel her shake with nervousness. This is her first reaping. No way she'll get picked. Cats ages 12-18 gather in the middle of the District 9. I gesture for Prim to join her age group, but she clings on to me.

"Prim" I meow "You have to go now. Don't be afraid. OK?" She nods and sulks over the other first years. I join my age group, 16. After a few minutes Effie Kitten makes her way to the stage. She's from the capitol, where fashion is just plain weird. Her hair is spiked up in different places, all dyed various shades of pink. She clears her voice with a tiny meow.

"Meow meow! Welcome! Meow meow, please turn you attention to this video provided by the meow meow Capitol!" she sounds so excited even though in less than ten minutes two of us will be sentenced to death. I've seen the video before. It's just a short documentary about how the big war of the cats separated us into 9 districts. 9 as in 9 lives, a stupid myth that humans thought we had 9 lives. I tune out and look at Prim. She watches intently. I smile. She's so innocent, wouldn't last a minute in the Hunger Games. When the video is finished Effie Kitten meows with joy.

"Happy Hunger Games and meow meow the kibbles be ever in your favor!" she meows. "Now let's start with the ladies." She struts over and dips her paw into a bowl filled with names. Her claw catches on one. She pulls it out.

"Primtoes Everdeen!" she says. I stop. The world is spinning too fast. I imagine Prim, laying with a huge gash with blood pouring out.

"Prim!" I cry. "Prim!" I push past her and stumble forward.

"I volunteer!" I meow "I volunteer as tribute!" The words come out in one strangled meow.

"No!" Prim cries. Tail pushes forwards out of the crowd and grabs Prim. He pulls her away gently. I make my way to the stage. It's not right. I shouldn't be here. Neither should Prim. Effie Kitten acts calm as if she's seen it before.

"You sister?" she asks. I nod. She licks her paw and grooms herself for a second before picking a boys name. Carefully touching almost every name before her claw catches on one.

"Cheeta Mellark?" she asks. A cat steps forward. He has very light brown fur, slicked back on his head. He trots up slowly. He looks familiar, but I can't remember where. Effie gestures for us to shake paws. We do. He looks scarred. Cheeta is strong looking, but shy. Why him? They play the anthem once more. Then Effie Kitten leads us away. Leads us one step closer to our doom, but at least it's my doom, not Prim's.


	2. The Train

Cheeta starred at me with his big brown eyes. For a moment I realized the odd crystal shaped pupils that he had before I broke eye contact. Suddenly a memory flashed through my mind. I saw his innocent eyes looking back at me through a steady wall of falling rain. I shivered and scanned the area for a place to take cover from the water, falling rapidly. attacking me from above. I was loosing the insulation from my fur quickly. I always wondered why cats were taught to hate water, but now I understand. This cold evil wetness took heat from me faster than I could comprehend. He looked sad, seeing me completely wet. That's when my memory ended.

I leaped back in my seat suddenly realizing I had been staring at Cheeta.

"You know if you don't want to talk.." he began to meow. I looked away and he sighed. My eyes darted to the train window. Outside the scenery passed by faster than a speeding bullet. Effie Kitten pranced into the elegant room. She started to rattle off rules about the train.

"Always always use the litter box meow meow, no crawling on the table, and keep your claws off furniture at all times meow meow! We've got work to do! Hairmitch!" she called. The doors slid open and an ungroomed cat wobbled in. His gray and blonde fur stock up in odd places as he stumbled through. Even his eyes seemed to be looking in different directions. I'd seen a few cats in District 9 that looked this way. There was only one explanation. Drunk on Catnip.

He let out a strangled meow and plopped down next to Cheeta.

"Effie! Where's the Catnip?" he meowed. Effie sighed and pounced to a fridge.

"So," meowed Cheeta "When do we start?" Hairmitch laughed.

"So eager, huh."

"Well, we have to start sometime!" Hairmitch shrugged. He snatched the Catnip from Effie and took a deep sniff of it. This seemed to wake him up a bit.

"That's enough of that," Cheeta reached for the Catnip, but Hairmitch pulled it out of his reach. I had lost patience with this disrespectful cat. I slammed my claws into the table and pulled them back making a shrill squeaking noise taking the Catnip with me. Hairmitch was suprised, but didn't show it.

"You want to win?" he meowed "You need sponsors, and my guess is you won't be getting to many of them too soon." I hissed under my breath. Suddenly the outside got dark, we were going through a tunnel. Cheeta hopped up and pressed his wet nose against the glass. We emerged into blinding light, cats dressed as weird if not weirder than Effie were crowded in the station trying to get a glimpse of us. Cheeta waved his paw at the crowd and smiled.

"C'mon Catniss!" he meowed. I stayed in my seat. Hairmitch look disapprovingly at me.

"You're not going to get any sponsors acting like that," he meowed. I stayed put.

***

After a scary experience pushing through the crowd at the capitol, me and Cheeta were lead to separate rooms. They lay me down on an uncomfortable mat and began inspecting my fur. Using painful tools and scissors they clipped and trimmed my fur into a neat uniform length. Also clipping my whiskers down a few centimeters. I winced at every cut as they calmly worked away at my fur. When the group of groomers were satisfied with their new creation of me, they left the room. I felt my new fur. It was smooth and perfect. I almost smiled, but then remembered the situation. The door slid open again. A cat with dark fur and a strip of golden hair above his eyes walked smoothly in. He took a seat next to me.

"Hello," he meowed. "I'm your stylist, Catta."

"You're here to make me pretty?"

"No, I'm here to make cats like you"


	3. The Star Crossed Cats from District 9

Catta had been discussing possible strategies and outfits for the Parade. We went through multiple plans, although I wasn't exactly paying attention. Finally Catta seemed to reach a modest decision.

"Let's cover you in water!" he mewed.

"Water? Are you insane? In case you haven't noticed, I am a cat. You are a cat. Cats don't like water!" I cried. He just shrugged and began sketching a plan.

After a quick visit to the litter box, which was very deluxe, made from the Capitol's finest absorbant clay, we met Cheeta. His stylist and Catta confirmed the plan quickly and began to work on our clothing. The doused our fur in special cream, apparently water proof. Then a sweater was forced over my head. A pale blue cashmere, very comfortable. Then

Effie Kitten hurried into the scene lecturing about how the chariots would leave in 10 minutes and began rattling off rules about how to act in the chariots.

"Smile, smile, smile! Meow meow, this is where you get sponsors! This is where meow meow you will win!" Catta waved her off and escorted us out.

We were hurried into chariots drawn by teams of small dogs. District 9 was at the very back. Cheeta and I had a long walk to get to our chariot. All 16 of the other tribute cats glared at us, some looked like they could rip us apart in seconds with their fangs. We weren't wearing anything special except the magical water proof cream and matching sweaters. There wasn't any water, I was to worry about Catta's plan. We stepped into the chariots. At the last moment Catta handed me my old collar from back home. A small gold pendant hung from the middle in the shape of a cat with wings. I smiled remembering Prim and Mother as Catta fastened it around my neck. I was about to meow thank you, but the chariot lurched forward as the dogs began to trot out. We burst out into the open where millions of cats meowed and applauded.

Suddenly my sweater burst as a cape of water began to fly behind me, like a little river. The same happened to Cheeta as a wave erupted behind us. Whisker Kibbleman's voice meowed through the loud speaker.

"Oh and what's this? From District 9! The Cats in Water! Ladies and Kittymen, Catniss Everdean, the Cat in Water!" The crowd meowed even more as I waved a paw. Cheeta slid his paw over to touch mine, but I drew back sharply.

"C'mon," he mewed softly "They'll love it!"

"Who do think I am? Englebert Humperdink?" He looks wounded from my snappy remark. With an angry sigh I gave in. We put our paws together and held them in the air, which got even more cheers. I managed a fake smile, but Cheeta's smile was actually real. He was so innocent and sincere that it made my feel bad for him. If I was to return to Prim, he would have to die.

•••

The rest of the parade was a blur of applause and speeches. We were swept into the changing rooms by Effie Kitten and Catta. A new sweater was fitted to me, blue again, but darker and silky. We were lined up behind the other tributes. Catta whispered one word into my ear as he left.

"Spin!" I turned to face him, but he was gone. Cheeta and I would be the last to be interviewed. Each tribute, starting with female from 1 had 1 minute to chat with Whisker Kittymen, make a good impression, and leave. This was our chance to get sponsors. 16 minutes flew by until finally a Peacekitty leads me to the stage.

"Now ladies and Kittymen, The Cat in Water!" Whisker meows loudly. I trot to the stage. The lights are blindingly bright, the crowd, a complete whirl of cats in neon colors. My name flashes above. Whisker mumbles something that I can't hear.

"What?" I meow. I realize I had been staring at his neon blue hair, and try to stay on topic. The crowd laughs lightly.

"Do you want to take a seat?" he asks with a little chuckle. I nod and perch on the chair, trying not to wrinkle my sweater.

"So," he meows smoothly "What exactly was going through your mind, during your spectacular entrance at the parade?"

"I was worried about drowning mostly," I mew as calm as possible. He laughs a little. There is a brief pause as Whisker thinks of something to say.

"Oh, what a lovely sweater!" he exclaims.

"Yes," I meow, this interview is going terrible. Remembering Catta's message "Spin" I abruptly spring to my feet.

"My!" he meows "What's this?" I smile.

"Watch," I say. and begin to turn around. Faster and faster, a wave begins to lift up. Whisker steps back, trying not to get sprayed as water surrounds me. Feeling dizzy, I take a seat.

"That was quite something! Ladies and Kittymen, The Cat in Water!" I smile and bow.

"Alright, we're running out of time, so I have to ask the serious question, what did you say to your poor sister before you left her,"

"I promised her," I meow "I promised her that I would win." Whisker nods solemnly. The crowd applauds and meows as I leave the stage. Effie Kitten embraces me in a tight hug.

"You meow meow were wonderful!" We gather around the TV in the hall and watch Cheeta's interview. I missed the beginning, but I watch closely as Cheeta chats with Whisker as if they were close friends.

"So, whose the lucky cat at home?" he inquires. Cheeta laughs.

"Oh, no, there isn't one," Whisker looks very unconvinced.

"Do we believe him?" he shouts to the audience. A chorus of "NO" arises.

"Well, alright. There is this one cat," Cheeta begins. "But really, I'm out of luck."

"Why is that?" Whisker inquires further.

"She came here with me." I gasp and back up against the wall.

•••

The moment Cheeta walks of the stage I race up to him. Claws outstretched I strike his face. He yells, but I lift my paw to strike again. Hairmitch tackles me down and stops me.

"Jerk!" I meow. Cheeta looks like he is about to cry, so Catta leads him away. I turn to face Effie.

"MEOW MEOW, CATNISS EVERDEAN, YOU ARE HERE TO SET AN EXAMPLE MEOW MEOW!" The rest of the lecture fades to the back of my mind. Cheeta is the one who should be lectured. He made me look weak, helpless. Now, we are the Star Crossed Cats from District 9.


End file.
